Battered Souls
by NatNazzy
Summary: After their ordeal at the hands of Ben Cyrus, both Spencer and Emily are battling with their emotions. Spencer with his guilt and Emily... well, she's not so sure; but when the two confront each other that night in Emily's hotel room they find out exactly what it is that has brought them together. Spoilers for 4x03 "Minimal Loss".


**Battered Souls**

**Disclaimer: We've already established that not owning Criminal Minds makes me utterly depressed.**

The harsh sound of knocking on my hotel door caused me to jump and then wince in pain. I didn't want to admit it to myself… but I was scared.

_Which one of you is the FBI agent?_

From the moment I saw the gun pointed at Reid's head, to the horrific beating I had received shortly after and even during our subsequent rescue, I was scared.

No, that was a lie. I was _petrified._

There had been fear when Cyrus had hit me. The pain was excruciating, and each blow seemed to be more painful than the one that came before it. But I knew that I had it in me to make it through; that I had made the right decision; because whereas Cyrus had only hurt me I know without a shadow of doubt that he would have killed Reid. He wouldn't even have blinked. He would have pulled the trigger there and then before turning on his heel and walking out the door – back to his mislead followers – not even bothering to look back. He would have been too caught up in the ecstasy of his omnipotent scheming to have cared enough to spare a glance over his shoulder – to have seen the horror on my face or witness the shattering of my soul.

_It's me._

My emotions had me completely confused. I wasn't sure if what I was feeling was a result of narrowly escaping a life-threatening situation or if I had been feeling this way for a while now; only just realising it in the haste of the moment – when faced with the possibility of life without Spencer.

You know… that had me scared too. The fact that's he's Spencer to me now and not Reid.

Subconsciously, I knew I had made the change before we were assigned to this case. Before any of what happened in the compound went down. Before Cyrus. I just couldn't admit it to myself.

I guess I'm scared of a lot more things then I previously thought.

The rapping on my door sounded again, insistent and urgent. Carefully, I stood from my seated position on the bed and slowly shuffled towards the source of the noise. I had to bite my tongue as my abused body protested at the movement, slow as it was. I found myself suddenly annoyed at whoever was on the other side of the door. It really didn't take much deduction to see that I wanted to be alone and lick my wounds in peace. To process the day and, hopefully, just get some sleep. I was so _tired._

Grasping the handle, I mentally prepared myself to thoroughly chew out whoever was standing on the other side. My mouth was already quirked in anticipation, biting words on the tip of my tongue. But they died in my throat as soon as I viciously swung the door open and revealed the man looking back at me with trepidation.

"H-hey Emily." Spencer stammered, hesitation rolling off of him in waves as he took in my aggressive posture and facial expression. I was quick to rectify it.

"Hi Sp- Reid." I smiled, trying my utmost best to show him that I was happy to see him, that my aggression wasn't directed at him. He seemed to understand. He returned my smile shyly and shuffled into the room when I gestured for him to do so; trying and miserably failing to quell the fluttering that had seemed to take up residence in my stomach.

I closed the door and turned to face my fellow agent. I was surprised to find him standing determinedly before me. Usually Spencer was awkward in situations like this; shuffling from foot to foot with his eyes darting to all corners of whichever room he happened to be in. But tonight, he had planted himself firmly in front of me, hands buried deep inside his pockets and his eyes staring intently into my own. They were… smouldering? No, that couldn't be right, but they were definitely filled with pain as he took in the destruction that was my face.

"You should have gone to the hospital." He finally said.

I huffed in annoyance and walked past him to go and sit back on the bed. "That's rich coming from you. You never go to the hospital when you're injured in the field." I winced as I seated myself on the edge of the bed, a sharp pain shooting through my ribs. Spencer moved forwards as if to help me but stopped when he saw that I had settled. "Besides, I had the EMT's check me out. They gave me the all clear."

Spencer looked down and mumbled something incoherent at my last comment.

"What was that?" I probed.

"I said that I don't always trust those EMT's. You have a mild concussion; you should have gone to the hospital and had a CAT scan to make sure you don't have intracranial bleeding!" He practically yelled, taking a step forwards and glaring at me with eyes filled with such worried intensity that I felt my breath hitch.

What started out as a slight chuckle soon turned into full-blown laughter as I digested his words, and even though it hurt my ribs to do so I found that I couldn't stop.

"Would you mind telling me what exactly it is that I said that's apparently _so _funny?" Spencer asked, his tone rising in pitch as he became more and more agitated. Why he was becoming agitated, I did not know.

"I-I'm sorry S-Spencer." His eyes snapped to meet mine as he heard me call him by his name; I was laughing too hard to notice. Finally, I gained control of myself and continued in a more composed manner. "It's just that as a genius surely you're able to pinpoint how flawed your argument is? I mean intracranial bleeding? A CAT scan for a mild concussion? That's just ludicrous!" And I started laughing once again.

"It's not funny Emily." Spencer whispered whilst he stared at the floor. Instantly my laughter stopped. "You could have been seriously hurt. You could have… you could have…" He looked up at me, his eyes imploring me to understand how serious the situation was. It was the tell-tale sheen of unshed tears that coated his brown orbs that spurred me into action.

I got off the bed as carefully as I could and walked up to him. I guess I didn't really understand how much the entire thing had affected him until now. But as I stood before him and tilted my head up to meet his gaze, I realised what that indiscernible emotion was swirling around in its depths… guilt. Spencer felt responsible for what had happened to me, and suddenly I felt utterly moronic for being so blasé earlier. Just because Spencer wasn't a typical alpha male didn't mean that he didn't feel responsible for my well-being; that he didn't feel it his duty to protect me. I was a strong woman, perfectly capable of looking out for myself – as this case undoubtedly proved – but boys will boys, and as much as people liked to tease him otherwise, Spencer was definitely one of the boys.

"Hey." I said, reaching out to grasp his hand. I gestured towards my battered body as I continued. "This isn't your fault. You get that right?"

When he turned his face to the side and looked away from me I knew that he didn't get it. That as much as I hated it to be true, my earlier hypothesis had indeed been correct.

I squeezed his hand, begging him to look at me. When he made no move to change his stance I lifted my other hand to his cheek and urged him to face me. "It's not your fault." I repeated.

"Emily…"

"No Spencer. I don' think you understand. Cyrus would have killed you. He hit me but he would have _killed _you. You know this as well as I do, so why are you beating yourself up about it? This," I said, once again gesturing towards my body, "was a small price to pay for your life. A _very _small price to pay; and I would do it again in a heartbeat." I concluded resolutely, completely mortified with how my voice had cracked towards the end.

When he squeezed my hand comfortingly, reciprocating my actions from earlier, I exhaled in relief.

"I know." He whispered. "I know that what you're saying is true, but I just can't help feeling like I could have done more… like I should have done more. I was so scared Emily."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Yes it was. You were right down the hall, I heard everything."

I didn't know what to say to that, and the silence was deafening. There was no use in lying now. No point in trying to sugar coat it and act like it wasn't as bad as it looked. If he had heard everything then he knew how bad it was, how painful it was… how scared I was. I didn't feel so bad about that last one though, at least now I knew that I wasn't the only one who had been afraid.

I flinched in surprise when Spencer brought his hand up to trace the ugly bruise along my cheekbone with his fingertips. Not one for touching, his actions surprised me.

"How badly does it hurt?" His tone suggesting that he wanted nothing less than an honest answer.

"Pretty bad." I rasped, just thinking about the pain suddenly made it return in full force, harsher than ever. My entire body ached and the pain was such that I was actually finding it difficult to think, my battered ribs making it hard to breathe.

He cradled my head in his hands as a particularly intense wave washed over me and my head lolled forwards.

"On a scale of one to ten?" He asked worriedly.

"Eight."

"So actually a twelve." He replied knowingly, his voice strained.

I looked up at him and smirked. "Are you profiling me Doctor Reid?"

He smiled slightly and was about to reply when I began to wobble and then groan in pain, gasping for air as I did so.

"What's wrong?" He asked quickly; worry etching the anxious lines of his brow.

"Ribs… sore." I ground out. "Hard to breathe."

"You need to sit down." He ushered me back towards the bed and sat me on its edge. For some reason, the pain was overwhelming, and I fisted his cardigan to prevent myself from crying out.

He knelt in front of me and ran his hands soothingly up and down my arms that clutched at his cardigan. "What can I do? Can I get you anything?"

I wheezed heavily for a while before I gained control of my breathing and answered him. "The EMT gave me something for the pain. It's in the bathroom, would you mind getting it for me?"

He nodded eagerly before removing my hands and hurrying into the bathroom. I had to smile at that. Earlier, I had hated the thought of someone coming to bother me… now I couldn't stand the thought of being alone. It relieved me to know that Spencer was here, even though I hated how weak my injuries made me in front of him. At least if something were to go wrong he would be here, he would know what to do if something bad were to happen.

"Here." Spencer said from right beside me and I jumped and then groaned as the movement startled my bruised bones.

"Sorry." He mumbled self-consciously. "I thought you heard me."

I told him it was alright with my smile and reached out to take the glass of water he was holding out to me. My gratitude quickly turned to annoyance when he handed me only one pill from the bottle after that.

"One pill? Spencer, come on, you know that's not going to cut it."

He looked at me fearfully, obviously having predicted my wrath, but he was firm in his position. When I realised that he was making no move to give me more from the bottle in his hand I reached out and tried to swipe it. He dodged me easily and I huffed in annoyance.

"No Emily."

"What do you mean _no_?" I asked furiously, incredulous at his boldness and the fact that he thought that he could dictate this. "It's _my _medication and it's _my _pain so it's _my _decision as to how I would like to deal with it. Besides, look at what it says on the bottle; I'm allowed to take two every four hours."

"Yes, and you already took those two an hour ago when the EMT gave this to you before we all left and came here. You're lucky I'm even letting you have this one."

I ground my teeth in frustration, my fury only being fuelled by the pain coursing through my entire body and the headache that had now found it pertinent to make its presence known. "Letting me? It's not _your _decision! Why are you all of a sudden micro-managing me? Why are you being so controlling?!"

"Because I couldn't control Cyrus!" He screeched in my face. His breathing became as heavy as mine as he looked into my eyes and begged me to understand. "I couldn't control Cyrus, but I can control this. Please Emily; let me help you get better."

I didn't reply to him initially. I just stared straight ahead, flabbergasted at his outburst. I guess I was fighting him so hard because I had always been left to my own devices. I was used to doing and getting what I wanted because from a very young age I had always had to rely on myself. I wasn't used to having someone else take care of me.

I didn't even realise Spencer was still trying to talk to me until I heard his heavy sigh and his mumbled "I guess I'll just leave then."

My hand shot out and grabbed his arm before he even had the chance to fully turn away. He looked back at me with a confused expression before understanding flitted across his face. He knelt down in front of me and enveloped me in a hug. It was firm but careful of my injuries and it made me feel so safe that I could do nothing but hug him back, burying my head in his neck and inhaling the familiar scent of his hair as it tickled my nose.

I wanted to cry, but I wasn't a crier. Instead I pulled back and smirked at him. "That's some hair product you have there." I said, fingering the slick strands. "You go through hours in that compound as well as its explosion and there's not even a hair out of place. You should write to the brand and let them know what a good job they're doing."

His eyes widened before blood rushed to his face and he quickly looked down. My smile only grew when he did this. It never failed to amaze me that Spencer didn't realise the power he had over people. He could have been a master manipulator if that were his personality. He could get whatever he wanted, make people do whatever he wanted; but he was too shy for that. Too self-conscious and too adorably awkward to even realise how remarkable he truly was… and that wasn't even touching on his mind, on the pure genius that proved that he was so much more than just a pretty face. Though the pretty face didn't hurt to look at… Pretty Boy as Morgan called him.

Before I knew what was happening, I was blushing just as furiously as Spencer. "It's fitting 'Pretty Boy'." Mentally I slapped myself. I don't know what had gotten into me but Tourette's sounded like a viable option.

"You're teasing me." Spencer said dejectedly.

"No." I replied easily. "I'm joking with you. There's a difference."

He smiled, knowing I spoke the truth; happy that it wasn't a joke at his expense but rather a moment of light humour between two friends.

"I'm still not giving you anymore." He quipped, giving the bottle a slight shake.

I sighed. Nodding my head I popped the pill and took a swig of the water before swallowing and handing the glass back to him.

"You should really finish the water. It'll help with the headache."

"How did you…" He smirked and tapped the side of his head before standing and retreating back to the bathroom.

Faintly I heard him rinse the glass and then the sound of running water as the tub was filled, but I was too preoccupied with thinking about what had just happened to take much notice.

Was I being that obvious? If he could pick up on that then was he picking up the other things I was feeling too? We were both profilers after all…

"I ran you a bath." His voice jolted me out of my reverie. "It'll help with the pain and hopefully ease your muscles."

I smiled gratefully at him. I had wanted a bath from the moment we arrived at the hotel, but the thought of leaning over its rim and actually having to run it had been painful enough without actually physically doing it.

"Thanks so much Spencer. You really don't have to do all of this."

"I want to."

Why did my heart rate just speed up?

Smiling I stood up and then frowned. Actually, I was so tired it was tempting to bypass the bath and just flop back onto the bed and sleep for days. But I felt sweaty and bloodied and disgusting so that wasn't an option. It didn't keep me from pouting though.

"What's wrong?" Spencer asked.

"Nothing." I sighed, and then chuckled. "Just worried I fall asleep in the bath."

When I didn't get a response I looked to see Spencer gaping at me worriedly.

"It was a joke Spencer, relax."

"Wasn't very funny." He muttered, and I was surprised to find that he actually looked to be in half a mind debating on whether or not he should go in with me to make sure I didn't actually drown myself. When a faint blush tinged his cheeks I knew he had realised how truly awkward that would be.

We stood there for a minute, simply looking at each other as the silence stretched on and became tense. The obvious thing for me to do would be to go into the bathroom and take a bath, but what then? Would he wait for me? Would he go? I didn't want to admit it, but it was nice having his attention all to myself. I liked that he wanted to look after me.

I'm not sure if he profiled me or if he just knew me well enough after all this time; but he assured me that he would wait until I was done before he left; just in case I needed any help.

I thanked him and then stepped into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me. The steam from the warm water had frosted the mirrors of the bathroom, droplets sliding down the walls, and I was thankful that it didn't let me see my reflection. For some reason I felt like seeing myself would make me lose my composure.

Thankfully, these dark thoughts turned light when I looked to the bath and found a generous heap of bubbles resting on the water's surface. It was such a kind gesture that a quick fluttering that had nothing to do with the pain burst in my stomach and travelled straight to my heart.

It looked so enticing that all thoughts of sleep quickly vanished.

Slowly I began to undo my button-down and shrugged out of it with relative ease. The white camisole I had on underneath it, however, would be an entirely different matter. Sighing I reached for the hem of the camisole and attempted to gingerly pull it over my head. I was making good progress; until my arms rose too high and a searing pain tore at my shoulder.

I cried out in agony as my legs buckled and my knees slammed into the floor below me. The residual aftershocks of hurt still pulsed in my shoulder, and tiny black spots began to cloud my vision.

As they began to fade I noticed a face in front of mine, lips moving frantically and hands roaming vigorously trying to find the damage. It was like my hearing had been put on mute and then suddenly the sound was turned back on as Spencer's relentless questioning bombarded my ears.

"What happened? Emily, are you okay? Where does it hurt? Emily!"

Dazed, I turned my head and looked at him. "I'm sorry. I was trying to be careful, but my shoulder, I…"

Realisation of what must have happened dawned on his face and he stood, carefully hoisting me up from under my arms to stand with him. "Emily about the hospital…"

"Don't even start."

He huffed in frustration. "Fine, but I think that maybe you need to lie down."

"I think you're right." I conceded. "But I feel dirty and revolting and that," I pointed at the bathtub, "looks beyond tantalising right now."

He smiled at my childish grin, amused that something so trivial could make me so happy. "I guess I can see the appeal."

I bit my lip worriedly as I tried to think of the best way to phrase what I wanted to ask. It would be awkward at best, and damn near humiliating but there really was no other option at this point.

"Spence?" I ventured, amused at his surprised expression at my adoption of J.J.'s nickname for him. "I don't really know how to ask this…"

I looked down at my feet, embarrassed, noting that the atmosphere had changed. There was a thickness to it that had nothing to do with the steam and it also felt strangely… charged? Judging from the sound of Spencer swallowing thickly and his heightened breathing, he felt it too.

"Would you… would you mind h-helping me out of my clothes? Just down to my underwear!" I practically yelled the last part as his eyes widened in mortification.

He never actually said anything, but his cheeks turned a vivid shade of red and I couldn't help but smile resignedly at how truly _strange _the entire situation was. I chose not to dwell on the fact that I was glad it was Spencer and none of the other members of the team who had to do this for me. I'd had enough emotional turmoil for one day without having to think about that too.

"Y-yeah sure." He stammered, clearly uncomfortable.

"Thanks." I smiled gratefully, trying to act nonchalant in the hopes that it would ease my fellow profiler. It didn't seem to work.

I toed off my shoes and kicked them to the side before looking up at Spencer expectantly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Oh! Right." He seemed confused about where to start as he gave me the once over.

"Shirt?" I suggested.

"Shirt." He agreed.

He made to reach for the hem of my camisole when a better plan of action seemed to strike him and he looked to me. "I think it would be easier if we got your arms out of the straps first. That way we can hoist it up without you actually having to lift them."

"Agreed." I sighed heavily, hating every ounce of vulnerability my wounds forced me to show. Hating that I needed someone to help me get undressed. Hating that that someone was Spencer and that despite the situation, I couldn't be happier.

Carefully he helped me navigate my arms through the straps. We had to stop a few times as my shoulder moaned in protest at being lifted higher and higher, but Spencer was patient and soothing, and assured me each and every single time that I apologised that it was okay, that he didn't mind one bit. I didn't mind either.

Once both my arms had been freed from the shackling straps, Spencer helped me tuck them beneath my shirt so that he could pull it over my head. I flinched slightly as his fingers brushed along my midsection, not used to the sensation. He mumbled a quick apology but otherwise showed no signs of it having affected him – he was too preoccupied with navigating my body through the shirt in the most careful way possible to notice anything else.

I felt the shirt ruffle my hair as it slipped over my head, and was about to crack a joke about my hair looking akin to a Wookie's when I was stopped by Spencer's angry hiss.

The smile dropped from my face as I looked to Spencer, only to find him staring unabashed at my torso, so intent on eyeing my bruised ribs that he hadn't yet become embarrassed by the fact that without my shirt I now stood only in my bra and jeans.

"Spence? You okay?"

His head snapped up and instinctively I took a step back, there was such rage in his eyes that it made him unrecognisable. It was an emotion that he had never worn and seeing it on him now chilled me to the bone.

Hesitantly I looked down and saw what had made him so angry. My ribs were mottled with big, angry bruises, as was my stomach. Cyrus did a pretty good job; there was hardly an inch of my pale skin that wasn't marred purple or black. The bruises were so ugly and vicious that I was surprised that none of my ribs had been broken… though it was easy to see now why I was finding it so difficult breathe.

When I looked back to Spencer I found that the rage had vanished from his face, replaced with such overwhelming guilt that I became regretful of asking him to help me. I should have just gone to bed and had J.J. assist me in the morning.

"Hey Doctor. What did I tell you earlier?" I smiled sheepishly. The grin quickly faded when his lips pursed in a thin line, clearly not impressed.

In two strides he made it across the room and he was towering over me. "Stop treating this like a joke!" He hissed. "It's not funny!"

His tone wasn't malicious; it was caring and coated with agony as his eyes dipped downwards to survey the damage once again.

"Sorry." I murmured. "I guess I just figure that if I treat it like it's not important then it'll be like it never happened."

"But it did happen Emily!" He implored me, not even noticing my gasp of surprise as I felt his hands grasp my sides and he looked back into my eyes. "It did happen and I let it. I let it happen and now you're in pain and there's nothing I can do to make it better. I can't take it back, I don't even know what to do to help and –"

"Stop." I said firmly, placing my arms over his own and grasping his elbows. "Just stop. We've already established that this wasn't your fault. You can't blame yourself for not being able to protect me from some psycho with a god-complex. There's nothing you could have done at the time with an AK pointed at your face and what you're doing now is more than enough."

"But I'm not doing anything?"

"Spence." I smirked. "You came to my hotel room to check if I was okay. You got me my meds when I asked for them. You ran me a bath and as humiliating as it is you're now helping me get undressed. I'd say that… Spence?"

Somewhere mid-ramble I'd lost him. His eyes had returned to my midsection and he was lightly trailing each patch of marred skin with his hands, assessing the damage for himself, completely oblivious to the effect it was having on me.

His touches were feather-light and didn't hurt one bit. How exactly I responded, I'm not entirely sure, but I must have stopped breathing, because he looked back up at me with sad eyes when he noticed the lack of movement. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at my expression and then uncurled in realisation.

His cheeks turned rosy; and I began to think for the first time since I'd acknowledged that I felt something for Spencer that maybe he felt something for me too.

But that was ludicrous. This was Spencer Reid; just hearing about Morgan's weekly conquests were enough to put a blush on his face, so me standing here without a shirt on was definitely enough to embarrass him into acting strange and unlike himself.

"The water's getting cold." I said dejectedly, convinced of my prior reasoning.

He noticed my mood change and squeezed me tenderly. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just tired I guess."

He smiled understandingly before moving towards my pants and then stopping abruptly, eyeing the button of my jeans wearily. He seemed to think for a moment before shrugging ever so slightly and began undoing the button. I was perfectly capable of doing it myself, but hey if Spencer was willing to baby me… in my exhausted state, who was I to complain? When he began on the zip I couldn't help myself.

"Doctor Reid!" I yelled out in mock despair, his hands snapping back to his sides as if my jeans had burned him. "I'm a lady, at least buy me dinner first."

It was a terrible thing to do, I know, but the timing was so perfect and at this point I was willing to do anything to diffuse the tension. The look of pure horror on Spencer's face at what I was implying was worth every minute of my taunting.

To my surprise, he snorted in amusement and muttered "not funny Emily", before returning to the zip, the smile not leaving his face.

I chuckled at him for a second and then began to shimmy myself out of my jeans, groaning as the movement jolted my weary bones.

"Stop." He said and knelt down. "Here, lean on my shoulder."

It was a lot easier getting the jeans off with him supporting my weight, however, the process was still relatively lengthy and tiresome, and by the time he had managed to pull them off all the way I was breathing heavily.

"I need to sit down." I rasped, and he guided me to the edge of the tub, kneeling in front of me and staring up at me worriedly.

"It takes two thousand frowns to cause one wrinkle." I quoted him. "At the rate you're going tonight you'll leave my room looking like an old man."

"I'm worried about you."

He said it in such a small voice that was filled with so much conviction that I felt my heart constrict.

Staring down at the face in front of me I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had made the right decision. Kneeling before me was probably one of the gentlest human beings I had even known. He would literally do anything for me and he expected absolutely nothing in return. He never had an ulterior motive. He did things because they were right, not because he had anything to gain. I've done a lot of things in my life, made a lot of bad decisions; but now, looking into Spencer's eyes, I knew with complete certainty that taking the fall at the hands of Cyrus was definitely not one of them.

Without thinking I reached out and stroked his hair. He leaned into my touch and I smiled at him longingly. He was too good for me.

Our breath mingled with the fog of the bathroom and soon the atmosphere surrounding us became as dense as the moisture that permeated the air.

As much as I loved reading a good romance novel, I could never help but roll my eyes at the tragic clichés that each and every single one of them was doomed to be mottled with. I'd yet to experience the 'magic' or 'ecstasy' that they all droned on about; nor did I believe in the 'power of fate' or the 'charge of electricity' that passed between two individuals.

However, as I found myself sitting on the edge of a bathtub in nothing but my underwear, my handsome work colleague and friend kneeling before me, and an undeniable 'charge of electricity' running through the air; I conceded that perhaps my opinions on the validity of these moments was about to be changed.

And change they did.

Neither of us noticed when Spencer's hand came to rest on my knee, too consumed in each other's gaze to acknowledge the sensation. We also didn't notice how my hand had moved from the side to the back of his head, fisting his hair and surreptitiously pulling him closer.

It was like our eyes were having a conversation of their own.

_Are you alright?_

_I told you, I'm fine._

Words weren't needed because the gaze was more than enough; subliminal in its messaging but searing in its intent.

_Is there anything else I can do?_

_Just don't leave me._

I'd always loved this part of mine and Spencer's relationship; the fact that we could have an entire conversation without having a conversation at all. How with one look we knew exactly what the other was thinking, and that we both possessed the ability to display an array of emotions simply by blinking a certain way or by not blinking at all.

Neither of us blinked now. The gaze never broke. A thousand questions and answers passed between the two of us until we finally arrived at what I think we had both been waiting for.

_May I?_

_I thought you'd never ask._

Our lips crashed together, easily melding into a smooth rhythm that solidified how great, how perfect and how _right _this was.

Always the gentleman, Spencer's hand didn't stray from my knee, though it didn't take long for his other arm to snake itself around my waist. He was careful not to jolt me and I knew it was for this reason that he was holding back. Although what we were doing was certainly enjoyable, and unlike anything I had imagined, from the amount of teasing Spencer received regarding a particular Hollywood starlet, I knew he had so much more to give.

He was being careful. I wasn't. Something about me changed in that compound, and I was done wasting time.

I nipped at his bottom lip impatiently and was surprised when he allowed me entrance. Instantly I deepened the kiss and relished the sensations that it ignited within me.

I didn't waste time in allowing my hands to roam, clutching, grabbing and grasping at the fabric of Spencer's cardigan and shirt, trying to get to the skin that lay beneath. Giving up, I moved my hand to the nape of his neck whilst my other arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him even closer, I snuck my hand down the collar of his shirt and relished the sensation of touching the skin of his back.

If there hadn't been steam in the bathroom before there certainly would have been now, and I could do nothing to hide my disappointment as Spencer pulled away, looking a little worse for wear yet handsome all the same.

"We have to stop."

"Why?" I inquired.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me Spence." I whispered in his ear as I hugged him. He returned my hug awkwardly, not yet confident enough to be comfortable with having me half-naked in his arms. I planned on rectifying that. "But you're probably right."

"I'm always right."

"Modesty, Doctor Reid, is a virtue." I chided as I tapped his nose with my finger and then yawned widely.

"I like to believe my kissing's better than that." He grumbled, but by the tone of his voice I knew he was joking.

"Even if it wasn't, there's always a reason to practice right?" I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.

He sighed in amusement at my antics before getting up and heading for the door. "Enjoy your bath Emily." He turned when he reached the threshold and looked at me unsurely. "I don't want to overstay my welcome… but –"

"Please don't go."

He beamed; obviously I had said exactly what he had wanted to hear.

"Okay. I'll go find something in your go-bag that's easy for you to put on and have it ready for when you're done.

"Thank you."

He nodded and then turned to walk out the door.

"Doctor Reid?"

He turned around, confused at my use of formality.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" And when he stared at me in confusion I playfully tapped my cheek.

He gave off a quick laugh before striding over to me and planting a quick peck to my cheek, drawing back shyly and scurrying out of the room.

That was something I knew I would never tire of, and I hoped it was something I would be able to experience for a long time to come.

As I shimmied out of my underwear and hopped in the bath I couldn't help but think about how lucky I was. Had it not been for Cyrus and the horror inflicted upon us by his hand, Spencer and I may never have reached the point we had tonight. We may have forever danced around our feelings for each other, skirted over the issue and immersed ourselves in work to prevent anything from happening for fear of rejection on the other side.

How blind we had been. I wasn't sure if I believed in God… and after what had happened at the compound, I wasn't sure I wanted to. But seeing how all the pieces had fallen into place gave me a burst of sudden clarity. It had not been an easy road by any means, but it had been a journey worth taking, because it brought me to my destination, and that destination was Spencer Reid.

As I lay my head back against the porcelain tub, I began to list all the things for which I was thankful. No one could have been more surprised than me when Cyrus made his way onto that list.

I guess God does work in mysterious ways after all.

**So there it is! I must admit, it was a little hard writing this pair since I don't really ship them at all, and I hate writing first person, but I wanted to challenge myself; did I succeed? I hope that they're not OOC and that whoever read enjoyed it **

**To those of you who are reading "Feed the Fire Within", I'm hoping to have the next chapter up tomorrow, though I make no promises. I ran into a little writer's block, so decided to take a break and write this for a change of scenery.**


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